


I'd Rather Detention

by lightsaroundyourvanity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, F/F, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsaroundyourvanity/pseuds/lightsaroundyourvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krissy Chambers is just like every other girl. She hates mornings and math, and can’t quite work up the nerve to talk to her crush. If only she didn’t spend her nights hunting the supernatural forces of evil, she’d be a shoo-in for prom queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Rather Detention

The shittiest part about needing a scholarship was that Krissy had to actually be in class, bright and early, five mornings a week. Never mind that she had been up until four the night before fighting vampires. Never mind the sickly green bruise that she had found spreading across her ribs that morning. Trigonometry took excuses from nobody. And Krissy had it first period.   
  
And of course, it was about more than scholarships and good grades now. Ever since Victor had eaten lead, Social Services had been fluttering around their little family like blackflies, just waiting for Josephine to screw up, so that Krissy and Aiden could be parceled off to foster homes.  
  
So yeah, Krissy knew it was important to be at school. It didn’t mean she had to like it.   
  
Although, Krissy admitted to herself, as she tried to covertly scope out the blonde girl sitting three rows ahead, it did have its perks.

  
Claire Novak had transferred into her class three weeks ago, all shy smiles and big blue eyes. She didn’t talk much. All Krissy really knew about Claire was that she moved around a lot, and that her father was dead. Krissy thought she could relate.  
  
But since she also hadn’t gathered up the nerve to _talk_ to Claire just yet, she hadn’t exactly had the chance to share these sentiments. Aiden had laughed at her the week before, when she had thrown herself across his bed and groaned into his pillow in frustration.   
   
“I don’t get it Krissy,” he had said. “You’re the baddest hunter I know. And you’re afraid to talk to a _girl_?”  
  
“Shut up,” Krissy had mumbled into into Aiden’s pillow. “Just shut up. My life is a disaster.”  
  
“At least try saying hello before you write your whole life off,” Aiden suggested. “She’s new at school, right? She’s probably even more nervous than you.”  
  
Maybe so, but Krissy still couldn’t strike up the nerve to talk to Claire. Just thinking about it made her palms sweat. Give her a vengeful ghost or a shape shifter any day.  
  
And speaking of things that made her palms sweat…  
  
Krissy was snapped out of her daydream when her math teacher, Mr. Zizmore, dropped a graded test into front of her. Krissy’s eyes widened at her eyes zeroed in on the grade: 64%, and mocking her with its damning red ink. She’d been late to class the day of that test, due to a very late night of hunting, but still, Krissy had thought she’d at least squeaked by with a C.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Krissy swore under her breath.  
  
Mr. Zizmore’s head snapped up, to scold her at first, Krissy thought, but then his eyes shimmered, and for the barest flicker of a second, turned black and opaque. It happened so quickly that Krissy was sure she wouldn’t have even noticed it, if it hadn’t been her job to keep an eye out on the weird. But she had noticed it, and now Krissy felt cold all over, her tongue frozen in her mouth.  
  
Her math teacher was possessed by a demon.  
  
+_+_+    
  
It hadn’t been easy for Krissy to sit through trig class after that, but she had, eyes trained ahead, hands balled into fists at her sides. She hadn’t even taken notes, she had been so tense. But she was also pragmatic enough to know that leaping out of her chair and dropkicking Mr. Zizmore would probably have landed her in detention, and him off scot-free, so she had stayed her hand. And anyway, she needed supplies.  
  
She’d skipped the rest of the day (and begged Aiden, who was an office aide, to fudge the attendance records), and gathered what she knew she would need. Salt. A bible. Holy water. A loaded gun. All the classics, really.   
  
Now she crept down the empty hallway, towards Mr. Zizmore’s class. She knew from experience that he stayed there until five every day, helping wayward high schoolers with their math questions. She was willing to bet that the demon would keep to his meat suit’s routines, especially since he was still coming into work every day.  
  
It was not her lucky day. As Krissy approached the classroom, she heard voices, even through it was just after five. And when she was right outside the door, realized that she knew that voice, and felt her heart begin to sink. Then she peered into the room, as carefully as she dared, and her heart dropped straight to her toes. Perched on a desk at the front of the classroom was Claire, fiddling with a strand of wheat coloured hair as she asked the demon formerly known as Mr. Zizmore a question. Krissy smothered a groan. This could only happen to her!  
  
Krissy was wondering what she should do–come back later? Try to coax Claire out of there?–when Mr. Zizmore’s head swiveled towards the door, and he locked eyes with Krissy. Instantly, he blinked, his eyes going opaque. So he knew she knew. So she had lost the element of surprise. Krissy gulped, and then hardened her resolve. So what?  
  
Since there was nothing left to do but go in swinging, Krissy elbowed the classroom door the rest of the way open and soldiered through, pulling her gun from the waistband of her jeans. She trained it on Mr. Zizmore’s forehead, but her eyes immediately slid towards where Claire sat. “Claire, get out of here,” Krissy said curtly.  
  
Claire didn’t move. If she was frozen with shock, Krissy couldn’t say she blamed her: Claire was looking from Krissy’s gun to Mr. Zizmore’s demon-eyes with a stunned, openmouthed stare. But damn if it didn’t make things more difficult for Krissy.   
  
“Baby hunter, I’ve been waiting for you to walk through my door all day,” the demon said in an oily purr Krissy had certainly never heard Mr. Zizmore speak in, “But if you think I’m letting an empty vessel walk out of here, you’ve got another thing coming.”  
  
“What the hell is he talking about?” Krissy asked, her gun never wavering.  
  
“Don’t you think there are bigger fish to fry right now?” Claire asked, more pointed and forceful than Krissy had ever heard her speak in school.  
  
Since she was right, Krissy only grunted and turned her attention back to Mr. Zizmore. “Tell me about it from hell,” she snapped. She opened the bible she had brought and began to read. “Exorcizamus te…”  
  
The demon snarled and sprang towards Krissy. He grabbed the arm that Krissy held her  gun with with and slammed it hard against a desk. Krissy hadn’t been prepared for his strength. She cried  out and her weapon fell from nerveless fingertips. The demon followed up his attack by kneeing Krissy in the stomach, and she doubled over, wheezing for breath.  
  
“Teenagers,” the demon muttered. “You all think you’re immortal.” He lifted Krissy’s head  up by her hair and slapped her across the face, hard enough that Krissy thought her eye might burst. “But you’re not immortal, are you? You’ll die just as easy as the grown ups, won’t you?”  
  
“You tell me,” Krissy croaked. In the demon’s split second of distraction, Krissy had managed to reach into the inside pocket of her jacket. She pulled out a handful of salt and flung it at the demon, catching him directly in the eyes. Mr. Zizmore screamed in agony and let go of Krissy, momentarily blinded. Krissy took advantage of the moment to grab hold of Claire by the arm and make a run for it. “Let’s go. Run!” she shouted unnecessarily, and then they were running down the hallways, feet pounding the floor as they kept running, taking sharp corners and trying doors, until they ended up in the darkened cavern of the gym. As soon as they slammed the doors behind them, Krissy picked up a school flag and slid its wooden staff through the door handles, tore open her backpack and pulled out more salt, ran a neat line of it in from of the gymnasium’s double doors. Then she dropped the bag onto the ground and braced her hands on her knees, breathing hard.  
  
“Fuck,” Krissy mumbled, still doubled over. She straightened up and buried her hands in her hair. “ _Fuck_!”  
  
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” asked Claire.   
  
Krissy spun and faced Claire. Even after all that running, she looked fantastic, every hair still in place, her cheeks flushed pink from all the excitement. Krissy wanted to swear again. How do you explain to your tenth grade crush about demons and the supernatural?  
  
“Mr Zizmore is a demon,” Krissy finally said, aiming for direct.  
  
Claire sighed. “I know.”  
  
“How could you _possibly_ –” Krissy cut herself off, realization dawning. “This is because of what he called you. He said you were a vessel.”  
  
Claire looked down. “Yes.”  
  
“And what the hell does that mean?”  
  
“It means what it sounds like,” Claire retorted, head snapping up. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. What are you even supposed to be? Sydney Bristow, the early years?”  
  
“I’m a hunter,” Krissy said defensively.  
  
Claire looked like the world left a bad taste in her mouth. “I’ve known enough hunters,” she said. “They killed my father.”  
  
Krissy’s eyes widened. She knew what it was like to have your dad be utterly, irredeemably screwed by hunters. The jagged lines of her anger melted away, and Krissy took a step towards Claire, and laid a careful hand on her shoulder. She half expected Claire to shrug off her touch, and when she didn’t, relief suffused Krissy. “Hey,” she said gruffly. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Claire didn’t say anything, but her eyes locked with Krissy’s, and Krissy felt her breath hitch as they stared at each other for a long moment, in a mix of understanding and wonder.   
  
Then the banging at the doors became too loud to ignore, and Krissy broke their eye contact with a scowl. “That won’t hold him out long,” she said to Claire.  
  
Claire’s mouth set in a hard line. “Did you bring paint?” she asked.  
  
“What, for a devil’s trap?” Krissy asked, surprised. Claire nodded and shrugged, the tiniest of smiles ghosting across her lips. “Yeah,” said Krissy, “But I left my book in the classroom. I’m not sure I can–”  
  
“You leave that to me,” Claire interrupted. Their eyes met for another second, and held, and then Krissy rummaged in her bag, pulled out a can of red spray paint, and tossed it to Claire. “Work fast,” she advised her.     
  
Claire was halfway finished trap when the demon busted down the door, the salt line vanishing in a whoosh from the force of the door caving in. Mr Zizmore stepped neatly over the demolished salt line, his face twisted into a grimace.  
  
Krissy was ready for him. She stood between the demon and Claire, legs braced, a pistol loaded with holy water in each hand. She squeezed both triggers, and a double stream hit Mr Zizmore, sizzling and clouding the air with the scent of sulphur and charred flesh where it landed on skin. Mr. Zizmore yowled and fell to his knees, and Krissy edged closer to him. In a flash, the demon was back on his feet, swinging at Krissy with a punch that she ducked under. Krissy squirted him again with her water pistol, catching the demon square in the throat this time.  
  
“I’m going to rip out your liver and eat it raw,” Mr. Zizmore snarled.  
  
Krissy smirked. “You’ll have to catch me first.” she emptied one of her guns in Mr. Zizmore’s face and threw the useless piece of plastic at him before darting away, scampering up rows of bleachers in an attempt to put distance between Mr. Zizmore and Claire.  
  
The demon took the bait. He lumbered after Krissy, swearing as he mounted the stands with an ungainly clatter, or whenever Krissy managed to strike him with a stream of holy water. It wasn’t until Krissy had reached the top of the stands that she realized her mistake: Mr. Zizmore had her cornered now. He realized it at the same time she did, and grinned, baring his teeth.   
  
“Nice plan, baby hunter,” the demon taunted. “I guess you don’t learn about covering your rear until senior year.”  
  
Mr. Zizmore reached for her and Krissy paled. She was well and truly fucked this time, unless she wanted to take a swan dive off of five stories of bleachers (and right now, she was seriously considering it). Mr. Zizmore grabbed Krissy by the front of her shirt, and fleetingly, Krissy hoped that Claire would take the opportunity to run.  
  
“Exorcizamus te.”   
  
The demon and Krissy both froze as they heard the voice from far below them.

“Omnis immundis spiritus.”  
  
It was Claire, her face stern and righteous. She stood at the center of her devil’s trap, protected from harm. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio.”  
  
Mr. Zizmore was starting to convulse now, as his body began to reject the demon inside of him. In a wild move, he punched Krissy, and Krissy stumbled backwards, teetering dangerously close to the edges of the stands. She fell forward onto her knees instead, the metal of the bleachers biting into her palms.  
  
“Infernis adversarii, omnis legio,” Claire was speaking faster now. “Omnis congregatio et  secta diabolica.”  
  
“You’re still gonna die,” the demon was saying, over Claire’s words. “You’re still gonna die. You really think you can stop hell from its milk runs?”  
  
Krissy sneered and struggled to her feet. “Let’s find out,” she said, before spitting at the demon’s feet.  
  
“Audi nos,” Claire intoned, and Mr. Zizmore’s head was flung back at the exorcism completed itself, black smoke funneling itself out of the back teacher in a thick black column. When it was all out, Mr, Zizmore sagged into a heap, unconscious.  
  
“Krissy!” Claire was already scrambling up the stands, blue eyes huge in her face. “Krissy, are you okay?”  
  
“Never better.” Krissy laughed, but even she could hear how shaky it sounded.  
  
As soon as she had climbed to the top, Claire’s hands were on Krissy, frantically making sure that she was all in one piece, gently touching Krissy’s cheek where the demon had punched her. Krissy winced. She could already feel her eye beginning to swell shut.  
  
“Sorry!” Claire exclaimed. She withdrew her hand quickly, but Krissy took hold of it again, clutching at Claire’s fingertips. Claire was looking right at Krissy, her eyes asking a question, but Krissy didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Instead, she laid Claire’s hand back on her cheek. Claire let her hand rest against Krissy’s face, her eyes never leaving Krissy’s. And maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight, maybe it was that defeating the forces of evil together always seemed to break the ice, but Krissy wasn’t scared anymore. She leaned in and kissed Claire on the mouth.  
  
Claire kissed her back, sweet and perfect. She cupped Krissy’s face in both her hands, and Krissy wound her arms around Claire’s waist. Krissy eased open their mouths and touched their tongues together, just the tips, before breaking the kiss.  
  
“So you memorized an exorcism ritual,” Krissy said, a little breathlessly.  
  
Claire’s lips turned up in a smirk. “I had to. Let’s just say… my life can be complicated.”  
  
Krissy sighed. “Tell me about it.”  
  
“I’d like to,” said Claire, with so much heartfelt sincerity that Krissy thought her heart might burst.  
  
Instead, she settled for grinning like an idiot, and leaning over to kiss Claire again.

**Author's Note:**

> supernatural lesbian week, day five! tbh I'm sort of starting to forget that there is a fandom outside of supernatural femslash at this point, which is not a sentence I ever thought I would write!


End file.
